


into the deep night

by sapphire_eyes27



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist Iwaizumi, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Modern Day Myth of Pygmalion, Modern Setting Retelling of Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Muse Oikawa, zine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 13:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_eyes27/pseuds/sapphire_eyes27
Summary: With his art exhibition right around the corner, Hajime finds himself stuck in a rut with no inspiration. But help comes in the most unexpected form that leaves Hajime aching with a need for more.





	into the deep night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is fic from an iwaoi fanzine I participated in a few months back! It's called Vinculum Through All Universes, and I had such a blast being a part of this fic with so many other amazing writers and artists. It's always been a dream of mine to participate in an iwaoi zine and now it's been fulfilled and I couldn't be happier! I'd like to take a moment to thank the mods for the zine because they worked super duper hard and they deserve all the praise for a job well done!  
> Without further ado, please enjoy my baby :)

If Hajime hadn’t spent nearly all his money on the slab of marble, he would’ve tossed it out. The offending block of what is supposed to be the center of his upcoming art exhibition stares mockingly back at him.

Hajime wants to pull his hair out. 

He has four weeks to create this masterpiece, the one thing everyone is dying to see. His other paintings will undoubtedly sell, but it’s the sculpture that will fetch the highest price and keep Hajime’s currently dwindling bank account stocked for the rest of the year. 

Hajime’s only just become a well-established artist thanks to last year’s exhibition, but at the end of the day, he’s still an artist, and Tokyo is nothing short of expensive. At least his friend, Hanamaki, is kind enough to let him use his sister’s art studio free of charge. 

The longer Hajime looks at the shapeless piece of marble, the more he loses hope. He has no inspiration, no motivation and only one month. He groans into his hands and prays for  _ something _ . His creative well is running dry, and he hopes for some much-needed rain. 

Despite the stress, the many sleepless nights catch up to him as Hajime collapses right on the studio’s small and dingy couch, still fully clothed and with a growling stomach. 

Normally when Hajime dreams, he’s alone. Even now his dream starts out with just him. He’s by a small lake that reflects the full moon perfectly on its glass-like surface. It’s dark but the sea of stars illuminates his surroundings. A slight wind blows, and Hajime closes his eyes, sighing as the pleasant smell of the damp earth invades his nose. It’s beautiful and peaceful.

The sound of the rippling water has Hajime blinking his eyes open before he stares awestruck at the center of the lake. The most gorgeous man Hajime’s ever seen emerges from under the surface. A circlet of freshwater pearls rests on his artfully tousled hair, and there are even more pearls adorning his chiton, which flows like water as he walks towards Hajime. 

As he gets closer to him, Hajime is certain this man is not human. His face is too perfect, too symmetrical. His eyes are brighter than the moon and his cheekbones are frighteningly sharp. His skin is what  _ really  _ has Hajime gaping because it glows almost silver. This man is ethereal and seems to know it too if his smirk at Hajime’s reaction is anything to go by. 

Hajime gulps. 

“Hello,” the man says with a smile when he’s finally standing before Hajime. His voice is as soothing as the trickling of a river. Hajime already wants to hear more. 

“Who—who are you?  _ What  _ are you?” Hajime asks in lieu of a greeting. 

The man doesn’t seem to mind, though. “My name is Tooru, and I am a dream nymph.”

“Dream nymph?” Hajime parrots back in confusion. His knowledge of Greek mythology isn’t lacking but he’s never heard of dream nymphs. 

As if reading his thoughts, Tooru says, “No one knows about us because no one is supposed to remember us when they wake up. We’re the dream that no matter how hard you try to recall, you never can.” His smile turns sad, and there’s a sudden pang in Hajime’s chest. 

Although Tooru brightens instantaneously, Hajime still sees the pain in his eyes. “So, what can I help you with?” 

“Uh, I’m not really sure…” 

Tooru cocks his head to the side and Hajime can’t help but eye the long line from his neck to his bare shoulder. “There must be something troubling you otherwise you wouldn’t have called upon me, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime’s jaw drops at the nickname. “ _ Iwa-chan _ ? How do you know my name?”

Tooru giggles. “I’m in your subconscious, silly! I know a lot about you now—probably more than you know about yourself.” His eyes glint mischievously. Hajime fights back a blush.

“If you already know everything about me, then why are you asking?” Hajime retorts.

“ _ That _ is something I’m not privy to,” Tooru says. “I need to hear it from you.”

“I don’t have any inspiration for my art,” Hajime says once his muddled mind catches up. “My art exhibition is in a month and I have nothing for my main piece.”

Tooru hums, tapping his forefinger on his chin. “That  _ is  _ a pickle. What’s your art style like? Maybe I can help you brainstorm?” 

Hajime explains it to him even though he’s sure Tooru already knows. He’s still grateful the nymph asked. Tooru listens patiently as the two take a stroll around the lake, and Hajime finds it easy to talk to him. It’s like they’ve known each other for years with how naturally they banter back and forth. Despite being (probably) as old as time, Tooru is quite immature with how he puffs out his cheeks and stomps his foot when Hajime vetoes his ideas one after the next. At this point, Hajime’s just saying no because he finds Tooru’s behavior cute, and it only adds to his charm. Hajime has always liked the outwardly childish ones who, deep down, are kinder and more serious than they let on. 

When Tooru complains about Hajime’s stubborn attitude, Hajime is only half-listening, too enraptured by Tooru’s beauty for any of his words to register. Hajime’s fingers twitch as he takes in the handsome slope of Tooru’s nose and the curve of his Cupid’s bow. He has the sudden urge to carve every feature, every angle of Tooru’s body on the marble to be preserved forever. Hajime thinks a creature like Tooru  _ deserves _ to be remembered. 

He imagines the process of creating Tooru’s sculpture before he can even stop himself. The idea excites him until he’s buzzing with energy and most importantly,  _ inspiration _ . It flows through every vein, oozes out of every pore in his body until he concludes he’s finally found his muse. 

The nymph’s pink lips pull into a pout. “Are you even listening to me, Iwa-chan?” 

“No,” Hajime admits, and Tooru’s pout deepens. Hajime feels the urge to kiss it away. 

“So mean!” 

“I’ve found it,” Hajime declares. “I’ve found what I want to create.”

Tooru lights up, and Hajime decides he’ll spend the rest of his life if he needs to to capture this expression. “What is it?”

“You,” he breathes. “I want to create you. In fact, I can’t wait to wake up already, so I can—”

He tapers off when he sees Tooru’s face fall. “Did you not hear what I said before? You won’t remember me when you wake up. I’m not meant to be remembered.” Tooru’s eyes well with tears. 

“And that is precisely why I  _ will _ remember you,” Hajime says. He takes a step closer to Tooru. “You want to be remembered, so I will remember you.”

Tooru looks away. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It doesn’t work like that.” 

“You underestimate me. I have a great memory,” Hajime says. 

Tooru laughs humorlessly. “Take my advice and find something else that inspires you.”

“I can’t,” Hajime tells him. “My hands won’t stop until I’ve created you.” 

Tooru looks at him with pity. “I’m sorry then.”

He goes to walk back towards the lake, but Hajime catches his wrist gently in his hand. Tooru’s skin is smooth and cool under his touch, and a shiver travels down Hajime’s spine. 

“You’re not leaving, are you?” 

“There’s not much more I can do for you,” Tooru says. “You’ve decided on this fruitless endeavor. I can’t cut through your resolve.” 

“Will I see you again in my dreams?” Hajime asks on the verge of desperation. 

Tooru’s smile is somber. “I’m only meant to appear once.”

Hajime doesn’t want to let go of him, but when Tooru pulls away, he doesn’t chase after him. 

“Good luck, Iwa-chan,” Tooru whispers before making his way back to the lake.

Hajime watches, helpless and alone, as the water swallows Tooru. 

*** 

When Hajime awakens, it’s just past four a.m. and his back aches from sleeping in such an awkward position. The pain is the last thing on his mind, however, because his fingers are itching to grab a hold of his tools to begin chipping away at the block of marble. 

He doesn’t know  _ what _ he wants to create—doesn’t even know what inspired him so suddenly—but Hajime does know he has to begin now before the artist’s block returns. 

He wheels out the extra block of marble that he’d bought in case of an emergency, and his heart races in anticipation. He doesn’t create any sketches because he has no clear picture of what he wants to make. Every time he thinks he does, it slips away like smoke between his fingers. Diving headfirst into the deep end should terrify Hajime, but it doesn’t. He can’t explain it, but he just  _ knows _ what he must create, and he trusts his hands to get the job done. 

He works nonstop until the final week before his exhibition. The studio becomes even more of a second home than before. On more than one occasion, Hanamaki has to force Hajime to eat and to return to his apartment to shower and sleep. 

But even when Hajime is away, all he can think about is his sculpture-like someone possessed. He’s still putting the finishing touches on the face, yet Hajime is in awe. He’s never seen anyone like this before. His sculpture is beautiful—otherworldly even—and this is not him boasting his skill. Sometimes he spends hours just staring at the man of marble and wondering where he got the burst of inspiration to create him. He still can’t explain how he was able to chisel the strong line of his jaw or the jutting collarbones that slope into wide shoulders without any prior reference. All the proportions are so accurate it’s almost scary. There’s a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that, frustratingly, Hajime can’t quite latch onto.

“What are you going to call him?” Hanamaki asks one evening as he admires Hajime’s final work. 

It’s just days before the exhibition, yet Hajime still hasn’t decided on what to call the piece. He’s had ideas but none of them felt right as his tongue formed the words. 

Looking into the eyes of the statue now, Hajime feels a sudden sense of déjà vu as he’s transported to a lake with his statue in human flesh before him. The statue utters a single word, and Hajime blinks, back in the studio with a pounding heart and ringing in his ears. 

“ _ Tooru _ ,” he gasps like he’s been doused with ice-cold water and awakened from a long slumber. The dream floods back, crashes into his conscious like a tsunami wave, and everything suddenly makes sense. 

_ I will remember you _ , Hajime had promised the dream nymph, and he’s proud he was able to fulfill it. 

The pride is short-lived when he realizes how much he misses having the real Tooru with him. The statue stares at him, but all Hajime can see are animated brown eyes that held the stars. Fate is cruel; Hajime remembers Tooru but is stuck with a sculpture, a mere shadow of who he truly is. He’s close yet so far. Hajime wonders if Tooru can feel he’s being remembered. 

“I hope you won’t be sad now,” Hajime whispers, caressing the sculpture’s cheek and imagining it’s really Tooru’s.

With his memories of the real Tooru floating in his head, Hajime ends up adding some final details to the sculpture. More than anything, he wants to capture the light within those eyes, but he knows he’ll never be able to do them justice. He wishes he could meet Tooru again in his dreams to tell him about his creation. He can just imagine Tooru’s jaw going slack in shock at the news, but Hajime knows he’ll never see Tooru again. 

He misses Tooru more than he had initially thought, especially when he remembers about how easy and natural it felt to be with him. Hajime has never been one for relationships after being in so many unfulfilling ones. But now…now he can’t stop thinking about what it would like to be with Tooru, to hold his hand, to kiss those lips, to make him smile…

Hajime’s clutches his chest to quell his aching heart. 

“I miss you,” Hajime whispers, resting his forehead against Tooru’s cold one and closing his eyes. “I wish you were real. I wish we could be together, my muse.”

Hajime eventually falls asleep at Tooru’s feet. He sleeps restlessly, and his dreams are a blur. He doesn’t know what, but something causes Hajime to awaken. His eyes are crusty and refuse to open. He massages his stiff neck before a long yawn interrupts his ministrations. When he blinks his eyes open, he thinks he’s still dreaming, except it’s not a dream but a nightmare, because his beloved sculpture of Tooru is gone. All that is left is the pedestal on which he stood. There’s no evidence that the sculpture might have fallen, and Hajime is not such a deeper sleeper as to not notice if a burglar came into the studio. The sculpture just seems to have vanished into thin air. 

“Wow, you’re more talented than I thought, Iwa-chan,” a voice calls from behind Hajime.

Hajime whips his head around so fast he almost pulls a muscle. The breath leaves his lungs because standing before him, in flesh, is Tooru, looking exactly like he did in Hajime’s dream. 

Hajime pinches himself but Tooru doesn’t disappear. In fact, he advances towards Hajime, eyes glimmering with amusement.

“How…” he trails off, unable to tear his eyes away from Tooru.

Tooru smiles at him sweetly, and Hajime’s heartbeat quickens at the simple action. “Looks like the gods heard your prayers. They turned me into a human from your sculpture.” 

“But that’s…”  _ impossible _ .

“Nothing is impossible, my dear Hajime,” Tooru says, reading his thoughts. He takes Hajime’s hand and places it against his cheek before nuzzling into it. “And now we can finally be together.” 

“You’re really real?” Hajime asks, stroking Tooru’s smooth skin and watching it bloom pink. 

Tooru nods. “I’m real.”

“And you won’t disappear if I close my eyes?” 

“Try it.”

Hajime begins to protest but Tooru’s hand is already covering his eyes, and he closes them involuntarily. When Tooru withdraws his hand, Hajime rips his eyes open again. Tooru is still there just like he’d promised, gaze luminous and dripping with love. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tooru assures him, playing with the small hairs at Hajime’s nape.

Hajime pulls Tooru into his arms and sighs into his neck. As he holds a very warm, very soft, very _ real _ Tooru against him, the blue darkness of the deep night disappears as a new day breaks. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Kudos, comments, etc are always appreciated or you can connect with me via [twitter](https://twitter.com/starlitvmin) or [tumblr](https://rolling-blunder.tumblr.com/)!  
> Thank you!~


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